


guardian angel

by dames_for_jamesbarnes



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Angel Sam Wilson, Angel Wings, Infinity Gems, M/M, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Poetic, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Protective Sam Wilson, Sam Wilson Needs a Hug, Sam Wilson Saves the World, Sam Wilson is a Gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 05:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19457050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dames_for_jamesbarnes/pseuds/dames_for_jamesbarnes
Summary: before the universe sprang into existence, before the infinity stones scattered across the galaxy, there was sam wilson."space, power, reality, time, they unfold like a map before all of them, him and his siblings. the first cries of life echo through the emptiness and something answers back."





	guardian angel

“sam, i’m coming in.” 

it’s the result of his failed attempts to prevent steve from opening the door - first by nonchalantly trying to brush off the light coming from under the bedroom door as a faulty fixture, then by frantically shouting “no” as the door knob began to turn. if he had been in a better state of mind, perhaps he could’ve had some kind of persuasion push through. but the fact was that living as a full-time avenger _and_ avenging angel drained a guy, especially when his power had to be muted to keep him on earth and not burning people’s eyes out at the sight of him in the first place. 

so, the door opens. and there he is, in all of his glory, the signature brow furrow by captain america himself startled off of his face as he looks at wings that fill the damn room, white as hell and still itchy from being kept hidden for so long. 

sam huffs, and it’s not a blush on his cheeks, because angels don’t blush. they aren’t flustered. it’s more a… frustrated tinge of color as a result of being flummoxed by steve rogers’ stubbornness. 

“well, are you going to stand there with the door wide open where anyone can see or are you gonna come in, dammit?” 

* * *

sam wilson is made before the beginning of time itself, and knows that worlds that spin on an axis tend to be born, live, and then die. there’s a beginning for them, and sometimes he envies that - being able to start from scratch is a blessing that none of his kind get. they were made. by something, by nothing they were breathed into the air, perhaps. gone one moment and there the next. which moment? it’s… uncertain. fully formed, though, they _are_ , and then the rest of the cosmos come and go in a flash around them, whirling in spirals of color and stars until something new comes from them. something like life.

space, power, reality, time, they unfold like a map before all of them, him and his siblings. the first cries of life echo through the emptiness and something answers back. souls are molded, 

these things grow. they evolve, become better. faster, stronger, smarter. there’s beauty in all of it, watching the skrulls begin to shapeshift on their own, or the klyntar learn to bond to their host. these things don’t come all at once, y’know, something had to do it first. 

except, sometimes, they need a little help. 

because when worlds come and go, you see a lot of endings. see a lot of implosion as well as explosion, an entire species, or planet, or fucking galaxy coming to an end in a spectacular display or… or dying out with a whimper. those are the ones that hurt, that have sam sobbing in his rooms on earth at night. when you dream you see those endings, hear them like a ghost. 

but not all endings have to be bad. sometimes with a world, hurtling toward destruction, a simple push toward the right direction can right its course. turn the tide. 

not all, of course. some set their paths from their first step, and the angels try to ease their pain before they go. but others, it just takes a little nudge, and… well. 

that nudge is sam’s whole job. 

* * *

“so you’re… an angel?” steve asks, and sam is stopped in his weaving of the tale. it sends him hurtling back to reality, _this_ reality, where he’s sitting on a bed with his wings reaching wall to wall, with steve rogers sitting in front of him. he looks pale, but his jaw is set. as if he’s determined to listen to the end of this story before waking up from whatever dream he’s sure he’s in. 

his mind has never been the clearest when he’s in a form like this, so sam takes a moment to answer, his hand lowering from where it was dramatically raised to frame the ceiling in his mind’s eye - seeing beyond it to where the galaxies he’s describing rest. 

“i… guess that’s what you’d call me, yes,” sam answers, and his voice comes off a little petulant before he can stop it. it’s… more than that, but he knows it’s the nature of the beast. they’ve been around for forever, and so their mark is left on civilizations all over. but here and now. wings, slight glow, coming from above - just go with it, wilson. “called different things, to different peoples, but, yes. to you, or at least a lot of humans, an angel.” 

“are you a fallen angel?” steve asks next. his voice is a little warmer, now, almost joking, and sam snorts a bit. 

“not exactly. i mean, i didn’t fall to get here.” 

* * *

well. he kinda did. 

sam feels the planet called earth by its residents, midgard by others, terran by others still - a species all their own, and he feels them all. feels their struggles as they build great cities and the walls come crumbling around them, their joys as they bring new life where they can with crops and bountiful harvests. 

he takes an interest in them. why? maybe it’s their smiles. the way they walk. the odd songs they sing. earth isn’t particular special, but. there’s something about them that he’s drawn to. 

so when he goes to observe the rest of the cosmos, dances from place to place, sometimes its an earth song in his ear. his siblings tease him for it, but they all have their favorites. they’re not perfect. 

perhaps that’s what has him visiting the first time. asking around for a way to walk along their streets. just for a moment. 

that first moment ends up being a century. and it takes a lot out of him. the first time he attempted, the ground was scorched, and he learned his lesson about announcing his presence due to the faces that melted at the sight of him. 

* * *

“wait, wait, wait. like that movie?” 

“what movie?” 

“raiders of the lost ark. the one we watched with tony. their faces, the nazis, melted off at the sight of the inside of the ark of the covenant. like that?”

“i… guess. kind of.” 

“that’s… kind of gross.” 

“you know that i can melt faces and you’re insulting me?”

“it’s not an insult. just an observation that it’s kind of disgusting.” 

“turning it into a movie reference like that spider-kid does not make it any less offensive.” 

“or less gross.” 

“you gonna shut up and let me finish?” 

* * *

he visits more often. fine tunes what he can and can’t reveal. and slowly there’s an attachment that can’t be shaken. no matter where he is, his heart longs to be back, to walk with them once again. the teasing from his siblings turns into cruel truths, reminders of what happens to those they choose to watch from above. 

they die. 

all of them. eventually. even the ones that live the longest eventually fall. it is only angels that can withstand, and that immortality comes at a price all its own. 

but even when he sees it up close, weeps with them, there is no changing the heart. the soul. 

his light grows a little dimmer than his siblings. the glow a little less sharp. but even through his pain, he can’t change his compassion. the fact that since the beginning his steps walked him toward those that needed him the most, from planet to planet, people to people. 

so, he makes a career out of it, you could say. come in, fix things, and get out. the ultimate game-changer. the key part being leaving. eventually, he rises up above them once again. there is only so much a being can do, even a celestial one, and… sometimes they don’t follow his advice. but he always has to leave eventually. because in the end, he doesn’t belong. he is not one of them. no matter where he goes, his siblings remain in the sky. some join his noble quest. others don’t, but they all have a home far above the ground. 

until… 

* * *

he pauses. 

steve’s walking close to him now. they’d moved since they started talking, as the hour got late and sam’s wings folded up once again. the pair of ‘em had vanished with a blink, and watching steve almost fall over at the sudden shift had sam laughing loud enough that jarvis politely requested they quiet. 

he remembers where they are, of course. a tower, with more than just the two of them. so sam urges the two of them to take their conversation outside, into the trees in central park, where the cameras end, the surveillance equipment cease. 

a little help from sam makes it so. 

it’s a long way. but they both make it eventually, and sam takes the time to think about his next step. does he tell all he’s done? what he’s changed?

but, too soon, they’re seated again, sharing a log that had fallen where no one could hear, and steve looks to him expectantly. 

“until what, sam?” 

* * *

until the earth screams. 

it happens over and over again, and that’s the only way sam can describe it. a call for help across the universe, and he answers. 

his hands are messy at this point, with earth’s blood. but that only means he stumbles with them as they pull themselves back to their feet. he is in the ears of prophets, of leaders, of generals. he finds himself working to save those he knows he can’t. his fate and this puny world’s are so intertwined, he no longer hears from his siblings anymore. can barely make out their words over the cries of a rock in the middle of ths solar system. 

but there’s something here that calls to him, even if he can’t discern it, yet. more than just the people, the animals, the trees, the waters. there’s power here. and it will rock the heavens with its might. 

it ebbs and flows, sam’s touch. sometimes he pulls back enough that he can almost see the heavens once again. but before long, he gets dragged back into the depths, saving lives, touching hearts, looking for what can chill the blood of an angel. 

and then. 

steve rogers aims to bury the nose of a giant flying ship into the northern oceans. 

it’s before sam can even think that he’s back at earth again, watching from his view from above with a proverbial hand against the glass. something about this scene has his heart racing, his body thrumming, the world calling out to him, begging for the turn of the tide. 

steve rogers crashes into the waves, and sam feels it. what shook him to his core. and before he can think, his hand reaches out, and the waters freeze, and for a moment he is there, alone. a heart beating beneath the ice. and… something else. 

* * *

“the tessaract.” 

“yes.” 

* * *

this is a journey that sam has never seen. a path that sam has never dared to take. but this path wasn’t one of his design, of course. no, chance rolls the die, and the earth suffers for it.

* * *

the night air is quiet. it’s early morning, before the sun even thinks to rise, and sam has told it all. how much this “something else” scared him. how much power it held, how little this tiny world could handle. how his hand reached out to try and protect the earth and ended up hurting as well as helping. 

but he had done his best, with the time he had. found people on this planet who could turn the tide. there’s something in all of them, something selfless, and he dares to make their steps turn together. steve rogers freezes. natasha romanoff escapes. thor odinson steps onto this world and sam corrals him into a corner, makes him care for those lesser than he. tony stark survives. again and again, he survives, he perseveres, and clint barton sees things where no one else dares to look. bruce banner’s anger becomes a force for good, and soon they’re walking together, the walls of the tower thick with their laughter. sam feels their lives weaving a tapestry, thick and colorful, and before he can force himself to stop his own existence becomes a piece of the puzzle. it’s a family, he realizes, a little too late, when he’s looking over a glass of wine at the merry band of misfits he’s collected. 

one he’d hate to lose. 

there are others. around the world, who will be urged, he’s sure. but for now, this is who he has. and he looks at their faces, and realizes that he’s scared. 

“there’s something big coming, steve,” he whispers. his breath comes out as steam. the future makes his hands tremble, like nothing else has dared to do. “you’ve heard it from tony stark, in his own way. and now you’re hearing it from me. there’s something big, and… i don’t know if we can stop it.” 

but of course, it’s steve rogers. that only seems to make his brow furrow once more, and he tells him how they’ll face it together, like they do now. 

“everything we do, we do together,” he insists, and it makes sam’s heart pound in his chest. 

“and if i’m wrong?” sam challenged, standing suddenly, his collar tight. there’s a glow coming from him, unbidden, and the air warms around them. “if i did this for nothing? if i can’t protect you guys? never mind that i know i’ll watch it all fall apart eventually. if i can’t save you… i’ll go on living and knowing that i failed you. all of you.” 

there are tears, he’s realizing, as they drip into the grass. they shine before a moment before disappearing into the earth. he sniffs, and wipes them away as best he can, and when he turns to look at steve his smile is shaky. a strange creature luxury, to cry. 

“this is my home, now,” the angel whispers, and he shakes with that truth. feels his bond to the heavens ache with the stretch, feels his feet plant on the firmament beneath him. this little planet, and all its people, and the lives that are sleeping in that damn tower, ready to save it. “you guys are my home.” 

steve is standing close, now. sam’s surprised his brows haven’t singed. there are hands on his shoulders, and surely they are burning, but he doesn’t even flinch. 

“it’s mine, too,” steve tells him. “and tony’s, and nat’s. it’s bruce’s and clint’s and even thor’s, in his own way. it’s our home, and… well. if i’m to believe a guy with wings, it’s all thanks to him.” that’s said with a little grin, one that means joking and teasing, and sam manages a laugh through the sniffles, his wings flutter, too, breaking the illusion of vanishing, and steve doesn’t even flinch this time. 

“not all of it,” sam manages, shrugging. “i didn’t make you guys who you are. i just… made sure the way forward was a little more clear than it might’ve been.”

steve laughs again, a little softer. and his hands squeeze tight. “you really trying to be humble, right now? this is a pep talk, okay?” 

“well, i’m waiting for the pep,” he intones drily. 

“and here it is,” steve returns, without missing a beat. “this is our home, okay? all of us. and we’re gonna protect it. no matter what. it’s that simple. no matter what happens, no matter what portal or doorways or… tessaracts come to find us, we’ll save the world again and again and again. together. that’s a promise, sam. you hear me? _together_.” 

the world is quiet. the future is uncertain. but sam looks up at steve, his eyes wide and still and little shiny, and he knows. 

it’s a promise he’s gonna keep. 

with another sniffle, sam pulls steve close enough that he can bury himself in him. they grip each other in the light of the morning sun. its rays are warm, the dew forming like it does with each new day. it rises past the horizon and shines on their skin, and they’re still in yesterday’s clothes. soon their feet move toward the tower again, and the central park authorities are none the wiser. 

together. all of them. 

and sam’s gonna make sure it happens. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is a mess of lore, ideas, probable typos, and feelings that came out in about a few hours of furiously pounding on my keyboard. i hope that first it makes sense, and second that reading it makes you happy. feel free to drop a kudos or a commment, read my other fics, or follow me at setrashtian.tumblr.com... or do none of those things. much love.


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